Lewis’s was not overly busy, as it was still afternoon when Robert arrived—albeit late afternoon. The first sitting room, with large, comfortable wingback chairs, was almost empty, and the second likewise. However, the gaming tables of the third room were half full, and that is where Robert found Cassidy surrounded by friends and IOUs, ironically referred to as vowels, and deep into whist. As he approached the card table, there was a great guffaw of laughter and several thumps on the back shared among them.
Robert paused, observing the easy comfort of the men, their colorful waistcoats, overly styled hair, and unrestrained mannerisms: idle young gentlemen of Bath’s upper society. They had no obligations and no responsibility. Not long ago, Robert had resented the fact that he could not stay within their ranks—for he knew them all well. They had been at Eton together. But, like Cassidy, each of these pups was a firstborn. Their futures were secure—fortunes and estates were a given, though in varying degrees. Cassidy alone looked forward to a title as well.
When Robert had been forced to choose a profession, he had done so by eliminating those of no interest, such as a career in the church or the army. In the end, the law was all that was even mildly intriguing. Not an auspicious beginning. And yet the more Robert learned about the law, the less he yearned to be back with his fellows. He found that he had a talent for the complicated terminology and a great ability to memorize. Robert’s day had form and function; what he did affected people’s lives. In short, he quite enjoyed being a solicitor’s clerk and greatly looked forward to his apprenticeship. Something he never expected.
In fact, something that he rarely, if ever, articulated, either. And would not have done so at this point in his life had he not walked into Lewis’s and seen what might have been. The tableau before him was … well, for want of a better word, boring.
“Smiling to yourself, Newton? Not a good sign. Been around Mr. Lynch too long, I’d say.” Cassidy, it seemed, had broken away from the group while Robert had been woolgathering. “And, to top it off, you are late again.”
“Not for the same reason.”
“I certainly hope not. But be that as it may, I have good news.” Gesturing toward the gamers, Cassidy brought another friend into the fold. “It just so happens that Byng, here, has a complete recollection of the night in question.”
“Excellent. We have a name, then.”
“Except that.”
“Ah, not quite everything, then.” Robert glanced toward Byng, nodding a greeting. The sandy-haired fellow was flying his colors in a rich red shade of discomfort. Robert looked back at Cassidy and wondered at his friend’s giddy smile. “Rather important missing detail, don’t you think?”
“Perhaps, but we can learn to whom I must go hat in hand easily enough. It seems that we were down the street at The Gammon.” His grin grew as he casually mentioned one of the most notorious of the gambling Hells in Bath. “More to the point, I have discovered my offense. It truly was a misunderstanding, and I have been fashioning an apology. What say you to: I did not mean to cast aspersions upon your honor. I have no doubt of your ability to cover your vowels and am quite prepared to say as much officially—such as placing an apology in the newspaper. Or what about this: I apologize most profoundly for our misunderstanding. I was too much in my cups to attend my tone of voice. There was no mockery intended, nor doubt on my part that—”
“Might I hear what occurred before we choose an apology?”
“What occurred?”
“Yes, what happened, Cassidy?”
“Oh yes … well.” Looking around, Cassidy swept his arm back toward the second sitting room. “Come, let us make use of the fire.” And so saying, he crossed the threshold and plunked down on an overly stuffed chair near the glowing embers.
Robert joined his friend; Byng trailed behind as if unsure of his participation.
“Is something wrong, Byng?” Robert chose a seat farther from the fire in a position that allowed him to study both his fellows at the same time.
“I’m not certain that an apology will be accepted. The umbrage seemed contrived—as if the man wanted to take offense. In fact … if I remember correctly, all Cassidy asked was if he—whoever he is—was sure he wanted to increase his debt. The man’s losses were significant already; Cassidy held most of his vowels—poor brute was having a run of bad luck. Here … wait, what about those vowels. His name would be on them—his signature at least.”
“Lord Rennoll,” offered a new voice, and they all looked up.
Another of their comrades, by the name of Peterson, stood above them, leaning against the back of the unoccupied chair in the group. His countenance was serious, no hint of his usual devil-may-care attitude.
“You’re not likely to get around Lord Rennoll. He’s a crack shot who likes to show off—actually enjoys the high stakes. He’s winged a couple of opponents so far—with nary a scratch on himself to show for it. Just a matter of time before he … well, I wouldn’t want to test his odds.”
“But … I didn’t insult him. The cards were against him; I simply asked if he was sure he wanted to continue. Meant to be helpful, not insulting.” Cassidy swallowed visibly and turned to Robert. “What should I do?”
“Return his IOUs.”
Shocked silence reverberated around the room. Robert clenched his jaw to retain a serious bearing in face of the gaping, fishlike expressions of his friends. He was well aware that he had just suggested committing the most extreme of blunders. But it was a possible solution and, therefore, should be addressed.
“Return his vowels? That would be an even greater insult,” Cassidy eventually huffed. “Might as well measure me for the undertaker right now; he’d shoot me on the spot.”
“He can’t. That would be murder.”
“Justifiable, if you ask me,” Byng said disobligingly.
Robert thought of the many tomes lining the walls of the law firm that would disagree, but he kept that knowledge to himself. The issue had nothing to do with legalities.
“How can you even suggest such a thing? Nothing’s more important than a debt of honor to a gentleman.” Cassidy’s indignation continued to climb.
“Oh, I don’t know, I’ve found that money can smooth over many a disagreement.”
“You have been in the company of the entirely wrong people, Newton. Perhaps the lower ranks would see nothing untoward in such a suggestion—but really, it is outside of enough. I’d rather participate in the duel.”
“As you might have to.”
Cassidy snapped his mouth shut, swallowed, and then returned to his original question. “What should I do?”
“Well, you are back to fashioning the best apology you can devise. Better than the ones you were suggesting earlier. Less grinning and more humble pie. But you will not have to do it on your own; I’ll come with you. If your apology doesn’t do the job, I’ll discuss the legal ramifications with Lord Rennoll. After all, dueling is illegal. Worry not, this duel will never take place.”
Robert spoke with extreme confidence. If all else failed, he had every intention of locking up Cassidy on the fateful day of the duel. He knew of a barn well suited to that very purpose.